Winchesters Rising
by clair beaubien
Summary: AU New ending to S4: Dean got to the convent in time. Sam didn't kill Lilith. The Cage was locked forever. This is what happens after that. 'Yep, another WIP.' Sick Sam & protective Dean to start with. Lisa & Ben are in the story, FYI.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: I've decided that Cas actually DID get Dean to St. Mary's Convent at the end of Season 4, in time to save Sam and kill Ruby. Raphael killed Lilith and double-locked the Cage so it could never ever be opened again. (Zachariah got assigned latrine duty.) On the way from Ilchester to Bobby's, Dean drives through Lisa's hometown (no, it's not on the direct route, but I like Lisa and Ben.) This story is what happens after that. Told from Ben's POV.

* * *

Mom and me were out buying groceries and were headed back home again when we drove past a gas station and I saw Dean's car at the pumps.

"Hey, Mom! Look! Dean!"

"Where?"

"He's there. Over there. Getting gas."

"Are you sure?" She asked, but she signaled a turn at the corner we never usually turned at.

"I saw his car! I think I saw Sam too, putting the gas in."

"Sam? You didn't see Dean?"

It'd been a couple of years since we saw Sam and Dean, since they saved us from that whatever the hell - _heck_ - that thing was they saved us from. But I knew my Mom still thought about Dean, and it sounded like she still cared about him.

"If Sam's there, Dean's gotta be nearby." I said.

We turned the corner and pulled through the parking lot of the strip mall and came up behind the gas station. There was the Impala, and there was Sam at the back of it, putting in gas.. Mom parked and I was out the door and I called over to him.

"_Sam_!"

He didn't answer at first, and it wasn't because I didn't say it loud enough.

"Maybe he doesn't remember us." Mom said, but I knew that wasn't true.

"_Mom._ Dean said that Sam remembers every single thing from since he was like three years old. C'mon."

I walked right up to him, he was bent down trying to get the gas cap screwed back on.

"Sam! "

He looked at me then, and man - I've seen Halloween masks that didn't look as pasty and not-real as his face looked right then. He looked like maybe he _didn't_ remember us at first, but then I could tell he got it.

"Ben. Hey. Lisa. What're you guys doing here?"

"Sam - are you okay?" Mom asked instead of answering him. Instead of telling him that - _duh _- we lived here. She was freaked, I could hear it in her voice. She thought Sam looked as bad as I thought he looked.

"Can't get the - I just - I can't seem to get the gas cap back on." He laughed and it was really _not funny_ the way he laughed, and he held up the gas cap. "The gas tank keeps moving."

"I can do it." I told him and took the cap out of his hand and put it back on, just as Mom asked him,

"_Sam? Where's Dean?"_

And just as Mom asked that, I heard a really deep, kinda pissed, "_~HEY~_" and then Dean was standing with us. He was carrying a plastic bag full of stuff and I think he must've thought we were just people bothering Sam. But then he got a good look and his face did that thing that adults' faces do when they see somebody they really really like, looking happy and embarrassed and '_I shaved this morning, didn't I?'_ but he turned to Sam before he talked to us and he got a pissed look again.

"I told you to stay in the car."

"I was putting the gas in."

"I _told_ you I was gonna put the gas in when I came back out."

"_Dean,_ I can put gas in the car."

"Yeah, well right now you're going to put your _ass_ in the car. I got the stuff for you."

"Dean - ."

"_SIT._"

So Sam huffed, and said '_excuse me'_ to Mom and me and Dean opened the passenger door and Sam sat in the seat. Dean crouched down next to him and pulled stuff from the plastic bag. He turned the top on a bottle of Gatorade and handed it to Sam, then he opened a little bottle that looked like a medicine bottle and dumped out a couple of tablets and handed those over to Sam too. I guess Sam must've taken them because Dean said,

"Okay, we'll give those a chance to work. Okay? Now, _stay in the car._"

Sam answered with a word I'm not allowed to say but Sam saying it made Dean smile and he stood up then and came back to Mom and me.

"Hey." He said. He had that goofy _adult_ face on his face again when he looked at Mom.

"Hey." And Mom had that same kind of look on her face, for a minute, and then she asked, "Is Sam okay?"

"He's a little under the weather."

"_Under the weather?_ He looks like he got hit by _Katrina._"

They were keeping their voices down like they didn't want Sam to hear them talking about him.

"He's just-." Dean showed Mom the bottle, I think it said _Dramamine_. "We're trying to get back to our friend Bobby's. He can recover there."

"Where does he live? Around here?"

"No, Sioux Falls."

Dean said it like it _was_ around here.

"That's over _twelve hours away_." Mom said. "And recover from _what_?"

Just as she asked that, a clump of napkins fell out of the front door. When Sam didn't reach to pick them up, and Dean I guess didn't notice them, I went to grab them and hand them back to Sam. At least I figured he'd want them because he had a couple in his hand anyway, and he was sweating like a faucet and was probably using them to wipe the sweat out of his eyes.

"Thanks." He said when he took the napkins out of my hand.

"So - you're sick?" I couldn't think of anything else to say to him.

"It's okay, I'm not contagious." He said, but I wasn'teven thinking that. "It's just - something I drank." He smiled, or tried to, but I didn't like the way it looked on him. "So - you're okay? You and your Mom? You've been okay?"

"Yeah, we're okay." It was weird to have somebody who looked so sick asking _me_ if I was okay. "I think Mom is trying to get Dean to let you guys stay overnight."

At least, that's what their conversation sounded like behind me.

"That's not a good idea." Sam said.

"You said you're not contagious."

"No. No it's not that. It's just - this can - this can cause delirium. That wouldn't be safe for you and your Mom. You're better off away from me."

I turned back to Mom and Dean and heard Mom whispering to Dean,

"And it's safer for you that Sam hallucinate in a cheap motel with paper thin walls than in a bed in my house?"

"Safer for _you_." Dean told her, but Mom gave him that face she gives me when she's _totally _not kidding about something, not blinking, not smiling, just staring until I give in or burst into flames. It always works on me.

It worked on Dean too I guess. He huffed a breath out his nose and came back to Sam and crouched down next to him.

"Lisa wants us to stay at her place tonight. What do you think?"

"I don't think we should." Sam looked at Dean then at me then at Mom. Then he looked back at Dean again. "But I haven't been making very good decisions lately."

Dean stared at Sam a few seconds but Sam only was staring at the napkins in his hand.

"If we have to pull out, we will. Okay? We'll give it a try."

Sam nodded without looking up and Dean patted his shoulder and I think gave it a squeeze and stood up and shut the car door.

"Thanks, Lisa. We'll follow you there."

On the way home, I kept asking Mom what was wrong with Sam and what did Dean say and how long were they were going to stay and could Sam stay in my room and all Mom kept saying was ,

_"We'll see."_

Ugh. Lame answer.

So Mom pulled in the driveway and Dean pulled in behind us and I was out the door again. Dean got out of the Impala and opened the door for Sam and waited for him to get out I guess. Only it seemed a lot like Sam didn't know that. He stayed in the seat in the car and when Dean leaned down to say something to him, Sam turned away from him.

"I'll go in and get things ready." Mom said and Dean nodded. She grabbed a couple of plastic bags out of the car and carried them into the house. I went to Dean.

"Can I help?" I asked him.

"_Sure_." Dean said, smiling and using that _much-too-happy_ tone Mom uses when I double-cross myself . "_You can help your Mom carry the groceries into the house."_

I stared at him but he only kept smiling, so I knew I wouldn't win.

"Ugh. Fine."

to be continued


	2. Chapter 2

How long does it take two tall guys to walk from the end of our driveway to our front door?

Pretty long, if Dean and Sam were anything to go by.

There were five more bags of groceries left in the car. I probably could've carried them all in at once but I wanted to make it take as long as they were taking to come into the house. When I went to grab the first two bags, Sam was out of the car but not walking anywhere. He was telling Dean that he shouldn't stay here, it wasn't safe, they should call somebody named Cas to get him, get Sam, to Bobby's.

Dean was saying he kept calling Cas but he wasn't answering, that it'd been ten hours since they left the _convent_ and Sam hadn't gotten any worse so it probably wasn't going to get as bad as _'the other day'_, so they were okay.

When I came back for the next two bags , Dean and Sam were about ten feet closer to the house. Dean had a big green duffle bag over his shoulder and he was telling Sam they could at least take a break for half an hour and Sam was saying he was sorry because he knew Dean needed the break.

And then it got kind of weird, with Dean kind of reading Sam's mind. Sam was just saying,

"I'm sorry, Dean. I know you're exhausted. I don't even know how long you've been awake, trying to find me. You deserve the rest. I can just -."

But that was as much as he said and Dean cut in,

"No, you're _not_ staying in the car."

"Okay, then -."

And that was as much as Sam said, _again_, and I saw Dean take a really deep breath.

"_Right,_ I'm gonna leave you alone in a motel room, somewhere. Not happening, Sam. C'mon."

He turned and started walking to the house and I took the bags in fast in case he might think I was listening in. Which I was, okay, but I didn't want him to _think _that.

Mom wasn't putting the groceries away like I thought she'd be, like she usually did as soon as we got home from the store. She wasn't even in the kitchen. I looked around, wondering where she was, and I saw a pillowcase laying down our bedroom hallway.

"Mom?"

I grabbed the pillowcase and went looking for her. She was in her room, making her bed. The old sheets and blankets were yanked off onto the floor and she was putting new ones on, the ones I remembered seeing on the top of the laundry basket that morning.

"Are all the bags in?" She asked me that with a pillow tucked under her chin, trying to push it into a pillow case.

"Uh - one more."The pillow went in the case and got tossed on the bed and she waved that I should toss her the other pillowcase.

"Where're Dean and Sam?"

"Still coming in. Sam's -." Well, maybe I shouldn't say Sam was saying he didn't want to stay here. That didn't seem nice. I didn't know how Mom would take that. "Sam's walking slow. What're you doing?"

"Making the bed up for Sam."

"He can stay in _my _room." Because if he stayed in my room, I could sleep out on the couch and watch TV after Mom went to bed.

"Sam's too tall to fit in your bed. And _no_, you're not going to sleep on the couch so you can watch TV all night."

Like she could read my mind. _Weird._

I went to get the last bag, but it was already coming in the house, in Dean's hand. He had one hand carrying the plastic grocery bag, and the other hand he had holding onto Sam's arm, like he was helping him get into the house. Maybe he was. Sam was still white and pasty and sweaty, and he was walking hunched like he was in pain or afraid of whacking his head on something.

"Mom's in her room, changing the sheets." I told them. Dean smiled like it was good news. Sam looked like I said Mom found mice in the cereal.

"Great." Dean said and handed me the plastic bag. "Where's that?"

I pointed him down the hallway and ran the bag into the kitchen to shove onto the cupboard and when I got to Mom's room, Dean and Sam were there, and Dean still had hold of Sam's arm and he was saying to Mom,

"I'm gonna have Sammy hit the showers, okay?"

"Next door down the hall." Mom told him. "There're towels under the cabinet. Fresh soap too." They were talking like this was normal, like it wasn't some out-of-the blue, never-happened-before thing, like they'd done this before a lot, or like there was some adult code language they both understood for getting stuff like this done.

"Great, thanks. C'mon, Sam."

_"Need to sit down." _Sam said. I could hardly hear him. _"Dean, I need to sit down."_

And Mom shoved the old sheets and blankets out of the way and Dean pushed-pulled-shoved-dragged Sam to the bed and Sam sat down on the fresh-made mattress like his legs just stopped holding him up. Then Dean crouched down in front of him.

"You need to lie down, Sammy?"

I thought Sam looked so bad that if there was something more _down _than _laying_ down, I'd say he needed it. He was still pale, still sweating, and now his eyes were shut.

"No, no. I just - I just -" He was doing that swallow-swallow thing like he was one swallow away from hurling. "_Dean?_"

"All right, all right. C'mere, c'mon." Dean started scooping Sam's legs up onto the bed and steering his head down onto the pillows in the fresh pillowcases and Mom started pushing me out of the room and away from Dean and Sam.

"Mom - but Mom - I can help - "

"Yeah, you can help by getting a pail in case Sam gets sick." She got my shoulder in a grip and spun me around and shoved me toward the kitchen. "Unless you want to help by cleaning up what happens if he gets sick _without _a pail."

Eww - gross - _no._

"_Fine._ I'll get the pail. "

I looked one last time into the room before I went to get the pail. Sam was curled up so small he practically wasn't there, and Dean was sitting there next to him, leaning down in, telling him,

"Hang on, hang on. You can throw up in a minute. Just hang on."

I raced to the kitchen to the broom closet and raced back with the mop pail. It was rectangular and kinda smelled like stale mop but it was all the pail we had. I got it back to Mom's room just in time too. I gave it to Mom and she gave it to Dean and he put it on the floor and just as Mom shoved me out the bedroom door, Sam started getting sick all into the pail.

Mom shoved me all the way out of the room, "_Go,"_ and I didn't need to hear it twice.

I was nearly to the kitchen before I couldn't hear Dean saying, "It's not that bad, Sammy, it's not even that bad."

to be continued


	3. Chapter 3

I went outside. Hearing somebody else being sick kind of gives my own stomach ideas, so I went outside and waited. But after awhile, I wanted to know what was going on, if Sam was okay. So I went back in and Mom was in the kitchen putting the last of the groceries away.

"Is Sam okay?" I asked her.

"Yeah, he'll be okay." She told me, but she said it in that too-high voice that means she's hoping more than she's sure.

"He said he drank something."

"Oh? Did he tell you what he drank?"

Uh oh. She was asking me in that stiff way that meant maybe she already knew what he drank and she was trying to find out if I knew. Which meant she was hoping I didn't know. Which meant I _had_ to find out.

I shrugged, because - _you know_ - I didn't want her to know that I had to know.

"Just that he drank something and he's not contagious and he could get delirious and stuff."

"_Stuff_? What do you mean by _'stuff'?_"

She was sounding like she was only making conversation but she was really trying to find out what else I knew. If I knew more than she knew. If what I knew was what she thought was bad stuff to know.

I shrugged again because I didn't know if it was bad or not.

"I heard them talking about driving here from a convent and how Sam isn't as bad as 'last time' so it should be okay for them to stay here."

She looked at me a few seconds, like she was processing what I told her, and like if she looked away from me it would screw up the processing.

"Oh." She finally said. "Oh, okay."

Just as she said that, Dean came into the kitchen where we were.

"Sam's done taking his shower. He said as long as he kept his eyes shut, he stayed undizzy. He's back in bed now."

He had a roll of clothes under his arm, they looked like the ones Sam'd been wearing.

"Good." Mom said and pointed at the clothes. "And I mean it - bring in all your laundry so I can wash it. I've got the washer all ready and waiting for it."

"Okay. Yeah, sure. Thanks."

Dean looked down at the clothes then kind of looked at me like there was something he couldn't figure out. And then he looked like he _did_ figure it out, whatever it was.

"Hey, Ben - do me a favor, will you? Go have a look at Sammy, see if he's okay. If he's awake, see if he thinks he could handle some 7-Up."

I was being gotten rid of, I could tell. Dean was looking blasé and cool and like nothing was up, and Mom was giving Dean a perplexed look, until she smiled at me like she realized all of a sudden that I was looking at her reaction. Yeah, I was being gotten rid of.

"Okay. Sure." I shrugged like I didn't _know_ I was being gotten rid of (because it's better if adults don't know how much kids actually know) and I went to Mom's room.

The door was halfway open. The drapes were pulled shut. Sam was laying right at the edge of Mom's bed, laying under the not-as-good-as-the-_good_-bedspread bedspread. He was wearing a hooded sweatshirt over a thermal shirt and still he was shaking like he was freezing. He was on his side and the mop bucket was on the floor beneath him, right where it needed to be. Somebody had cleaned it out. _Eww, gross_.

Sam's eyes were closed and I figured he was asleep and so I could go back to hear what Mom and Dean didn't want me to hear. But when I took a step to head back that way, Sam woke up.

"_Ben_? _Is everything okay?"_

I don't know Sam as much as I know Dean, and that's not a whole lot anyway. He saved me, Sam saved me and all those kids with me, and he could've died doing it, so you know he's a good guy. And right then, when he asked '_is everything okay'_, not even lifting his head off the pillow when he asked it, I could hear in his voice that as cold, shaking, aching, sweating dead as he was feeling, if there _was_ something wrong, he'd get out of bed and take care of it.

That gave me an idea what his life was like all the time.

"Dean asked me to check on you." I told him. I walked up a little closer to him. "But I think they more wanted to get me out of the room so they could talk."

Well, maybe I shouldn't have said that, since it was pretty obviously _Sam_ that they were going to be talking about. But Sam laughed. It sounded a lot like a cough or a choke, but some of it at least was a laugh.

"Sucks to be _the kid_, doesn't it?" He asked me. He sounded like he knew what he was talking about.

"_All the time." _

"No. Not _all_ the time." He coughed, and it really was a cough this time, and he turned onto his back like he was uncomfortable and couldn't _get_ comfortable.

"You want me to get Dean?" I asked, and he nodded, only nodded and didn't say anything, and kept shifting around like he really needed to get comfortable but couldn't really do it.

I was out the door and only halfway down the bedroom hallway, hurrying, when Dean came hurrying down the other half towards me. Mom was behind him.

"He wanted me to get you." I told Dean and he only nodded and didn't stop to hear anything else.

"Hey, Sammy." He was saying before he was hardly even in the room. "How're you holding on?" And for as freaked as he looked when he passed me, he sounded like he was just checking on Sam, nothing else.

Sam answered something, but I couldn't hear it and I wanted to hear it, so I was gonna walk back to the room, but Mom pulled me around.

"Do me a favor, okay? Take their laundry down to the basement for me, so I can wash it."

_Laundry_? She was giving me _laundry duty_ when Dean and Sam were here and something _seriously serious_ was going on?

"_But Mom -."_

All she had to do was arch her eyebrows and give me The Look and I was headed for the kitchen and the laundry basket. Only it wasn't the laundry basket, it was another duffel like the one Dean had brought in when he brought in Sam.

I got to carry one of their duffel bags? _Cool_. I pulled the strap over my shoulder just like Dean had done it. The bag dragged on the stairs a little when I carried it down to the basement, but it was still _so cool _to be carrying _Dean's_ _duffel. _Maybe Mom would get me one just like it.

I set it on the table next to the washing machine and was just deciding it'd be a real help to Mom if I opened it up and started sorting the clothes (not because I wanted to look at their stuff) when Mom came down.

"Is Sam okay?"

"Yeah." Her voice was still too high saying that, so she was still hoping. She unzipped the duffel and man, did it reek.

"Yuck. Why does their stuff smell like rotten eggs?" I asked. I held my nose and Mom looked like maybe she wanted to, too.

"When clothes don't get washed, they smell," she said. It was so totally a non-answer answer.

She shoved all the clothes Sam was wearing when he collapsed into our house into the washer. But only those clothes and none of the rest that were stuffed into the duffel. As soon as the detergent (double dose) and the fabric softener ball (full to the top) were in and the lid was shut and the washing cycle started, the smell wasn't so bad. I let go of my nose.

"What're we gonna do now?" I asked her.

"I'm going to get dinner started and keep working on their laundry, and you're going to get started on that hour of reading you need to have done by Monday."

_Homework. Ugh. Lame. _

"I mean - Dean and Sam. What're we doing now?"

Only one eyebrow got arched that time. Mom-Code for - well, it's code for a lot of things from 'do you really want to die right now?' to 'did I ask for your opinion?' to 'do I really have a son that clueless?' And right now, it was Code Number 3.

"_We're_ not doing anything with them. Dean got Sam settled down and they're both going to sleep. For a long time. So _we're_ not going to bother them."

"But if they need anything -."

"If they need anything, Dean will let _me_ know. Until then -."

She left the rest of the sentence unfinished because _I _was supposed to finish it.

"_Until then I'll get started on my reading." _I glummed out. _Homework. Lame._

Mom just smiled at me and headed upstairs.

I trudged up the stairs behind her and down to my room to get the book I was supposed to be reading. Mom's door was closed all the way but when I walked past it, I heard Dean call "_Lisa_?" like he was trying to be quiet, and since she was in the kitchen I opened it, just enough, just in case.

Sam was at the edge of the bed like before, on his side, under the bedspread. He didn't move when I answered Dean, so probably he was asleep. Or maybe it was because Dean was sitting on the bed next to him with his hand on Sam's shoulder that Sam knew he didn't have to check who was coming into the room.

"Mom's in the kitchen." I told Dean. "I can get her for you."

"Thanks."

I left the door open and tried not to run to the kitchen because I'm not supposed to run in the house even though maybe this would be an exception. But I guess not because when I told Mom, "Dean needs you," she _hurried_, but didn't _run _to see what he needed.

I _hurried_ too, along behind her.

"Dean?"

Dean stood up when Mom walked into the room.

"Hey, Leese -." (_Cool! Dean gave my Mom a nickname!) _"I - uh - I -." He looked back at Sam like he was worried about something, and Mom started looking like she was getting worried about something, but then Dean finished with "I'm gonna take a fast shower, it won't take more than a few minutes. Would you sit with Sammy until I'm done?"

"I will." Mom said, and her face went from worried to smiling like being asked to sit with a guy who could hurl at any second was the world's biggest compliment. And Dean's face went from worried to looking like asking her to sit with Sam _was _the world's biggest compliment and he was glad Mom understood that.

I rolled my eyes, for all the good it did because Mom and Dean were only looking at each other, and I went to get my book to read.

Adults - they're so weird.

to be continued


	4. Chapter 4

Wow. For as exciting as Dean and Sam's lives are in real life, when they're sleeping - they're pretty dull. I mean, I guess nothing exciting can happen when you're sleeping, even when you're Sam and Dean. I guess I just thought it wouldn't be _so much_ nothing.

Dean took a shower in like record time. I think he only just shut the bathroom door when it opened again and he was out and clean.

Okay, so I know it was a little bit longer than that. But not much. It was sure faster than I thought it would be.

I went to my room and got my book and came back to the hallway. Mom was standing in the doorway to her room, leaning back against the doorframe and watching Sam sleeping in her bed. I don't know what she was watching for. He was asleep. Like I said, nothing much exciting going on there.

"Honey, don't stare." She told me, when she noticed me standing there.

"_You're_ staring."

"I'm _watching_. There's a difference."

"What'd Dean want you watching Sam for, anyway?"

"Because he doesn't feel well." She said, like that was the perfect answer. Which it wasn't. "Go get started on your reading."

Before I could walk away though, or hardly take a step, Dean came out of the bathroom. He must've taken like a five minute shower, he was out that fast.

Mom straightened up and smiled at Dean and said, "_He didn't wake up at all,_" sounding like she was telling him dinner was great and she really hoped they could do this again.

And Dean smiled back at her and said, "_Good, thanks," _sounding like next time dinner would come with candles and wine and me spending the night at Aunt Anne's.

_Hello? Kid standing right next to you. Doesn't need to see you get all kissy-face. _

But they didn't seem to notice me standing there at all.

And then _I_ noticed -

"What happened to you neck?"

- a ring of purple bruises around Dean's neck. I didn't see them before when he was wearing the collared shirt, but I could see them now that he was wearing a t-shirt.

He shrugged and barely took his eyes off Mom, "_Things happen," _and Mom's eyes got kind of a surprised look, looking at the bruises. But she said,

"Dinner won't be ready for another hour or so. Why don't I bring you something in the meantime? Sandwiches, anything you think Sam can eat."

"Y-yeah. Yeah, that'll be great, thanks." Dean answered her and then he kind of tugged up on the neck of his t-shirt like he wished he could cover up the bruises. "I think Sam's down for the count. I hope he is, anyway. But maybe some ginger ale, just in case, or lemonade or anything - you know - anything that's - that's not - you know - "

_I_ didn't know what he was talking about, but I guess Mom did because she nodded and smiled again, only this time it was her '_things aren't as bad as they seem, I promise_' smile and that made Dean smile and nod and let go of the neck of his t-shirt.

"_Thanks, Lisa."_

"Go get some rest now. I'll be right back."

So he went into Mom's room and shut the door and Mom went into the kitchen, and I went in with her. I mean, I could've gone to the living room to sit in a nice, comfy chair to read my book, but I wanted to keep my Mom company while she made a sandwich for Dean and lemonade for Sam. In case she needed any help. In case she got lonely.

_In case Dean came back out to talk to her._

But he didn't.

I read, Mom sliced and stacked and mixed and poured, and Dean stayed where he was and didn't come into the kitchen. Oh well, I tried. When Mom was done mixing and stacking, she put everything onto a cookie sheet because we don't have an actual tray to carry stuff around. Not that we ever actually needed an actual tray before. She put a plate of a couple of sandwiches and a couple glasses of lemonade onto the 'tray' and headed for the bedrooms.

"Can I help?" I asked her.

"_Sure_. You can keep doing your homework."

_Ugh. Homework. Lame._

But - you know - the book I had in front of me was kind of boring. And there was a different book in my room that I could read for homework, too. So going to my room to get it would be part of doing my homework. And Mom told me to keep doing my homework, so…

The door to Mom's room was closed. She couldn't have known what I was thinking. _Could she?_ Whatever. I couldn't see anything, and I could only hear Dean talking, but not what he was saying. I tried to walk slow, (you know, so I wouldn't disturb them, not because I was listening) but the door opened and there was Mom.

"Ben - whatever you're doing, _do it_, and go back to the kitchen."

_Busted._

She was giving me the look '_you-move-__**now'**_, but through the door (just before Mom shut it) I saw Dean, and he smiled and winked at me, so I knew I wasn't in trouble with him. _Cool_. So Mom shut the door and I switched out my books and went back to the kitchen.

And then - _nothing happened._

Dean and Sam _slept_.

They slept through three more loads of laundry. They slept through dinner and they slept through dessert. They slept through Mom and me watching TV _after_ dinner and dessert. They slept through me getting ready for bed and going to bed and laying there awake listening for any sound or sign that they weren't awake and maybe might need something that I could do for them. You know - to be helpful.

But no.

They _slept._

Then I fell asleep since there wasn't anything _else_ to do.

Voices woke me up. I'd left my bedroom door open and it sounded like it was still open, how the voices were coming through clear. Hard to still hear, but clear. I was facing away from my door and I stayed that way so nobody would figure out I was awake and stop talking or move the talking someplace else.

"How's he doing?" That was Mom.

"He's okay. He went back to sleep. He'll be okay." That was Dean.

"Was it a bad dream?"

"_Ha_. I wish. It was a - _bad memory_. There's no waking up out of _those_."

"For either one of you."

Dean didn't say anything after Mom said that. I _so_ wanted to turn over and see what was going on, but I didn't want anybody to hear my bed squeak and get busted again, either.

"We didn't mean to wake you up." That was Dean again. "I appreciate you checking on us, but - you know - you don't have to. If it happens again, it'll probably happen again, you don't - I don't want you to - you don't have to - I don't want to bother you - if it happens again - "

And I was pretty much ready to shout out '_if WHAT happens again_?' busted or not, but Mom answered him.

"I'll check. It's no bother. If it happens again, _I'll check on you_."

And even down the hall and my door half closed, even I could hear the really deep breath Dean let out.

"_Thanks, Leese. _You just don't know - _thanks."_

"I know that you've looked as ready to drop all day as Sam has. So go in, go back to bed. And come get me if you need _anything._"

"Thanks. I will. Thanks."

And then - I can't say for 100% but I'm pretty sure that right then, _somebody_ got kissed. I know that sound.

_Hello? Kid pretending to be asleep right down the hall from you. Doesn't need to hear you get all kissy-face. _

Then Mom's bedroom door closed and Mom's footsteps went back to the front room (what a waste, she was sleeping on the couch and probably not even watching TV) and I went back to sleep wondering if I'd ever find out what _'it'_ was that was probably going to happen again.

to be continued


	5. Chapter 5

So, nothing else happened during the night. At least nothing that woke me up. So, when I did wake up, it was seven a.m. give or take. Everything was quiet. Mom's bedroom door was shut. Mom was probably still asleep on the couch. I made myself a bowl of breakfast and switched on the under-cupboard TV to watch Ben Ten Alien Force.

At the second commercial break, something made me look up – and there was Sam, standing in the doorway between kitchen and bedroom hallway. He wasn't wearing the hooded sweatshirt anymore and he wasn't shivering anymore. He only looked half as dead as he looked yesterday, but that was still a lot of dead.

"Hi." I tried saying to him. The look he was giving me, kind of '_I didn't expect to see you'_ and kind of '_who are you again_?' made me wonder if he was sleep walking or delirious or something. So I asked, "Are you okay?" figuring his answer would tell me how fast I should get Dean.

"Hey. Uh. Hey. Is – uh – is – your Mom – here?" He was talking like he had to lug each word up a really long staircase or something. "I wanted to ask – I wondered – if I – could have – some more lemonade."

Did he really think he had to ask Mom for that? What am I?

"Sure. I'll get some for you."

He didn't move out of the doorway while I poured him the lemonade, or when I handed it to him and he thanked me, or when he drank it all down before I even got back to my chair at the table.

"You want some more?" I asked. But he didn't answer me. He looked like he didn't know what the answer was. "Sam? Are you okay?"

Me asking that, or maybe just me saying anything at all, switched off that not-knowing look on his face.

"Where's your sink?" He looked around and sounded like we kept our sink in a secret hiding spot that he hadn't committed to memory yet. I noticed he hadn't answered – yet – if he was okay or not. "I'll put this in the sink – " he gestured the glass around a little bit – "I just don't see it -."

"Here, I'll put in the dishwasher." I took the glass out of his hand and he looked at me like he wasn't still quite following what was going on. "Sam? Are you okay?"

He gave me another non-answer.

"I didn't mean to bother you. I'll go – back – " He stopped talking and looked like he couldn't remember what 'back' was or where it was. I set the glass in the top rack and figured I'd get Dean. But I tried one last time.

"_Are you okay?"_

He knew what I was asking, he was looking at me like he knew what I was asking and like he knew he was answering anything _but_ what I was asking.

"I appreciate you asking." He said, _still_ not answering me but sure sounding like he definitely knew what I was asking him and that I was asking him.

"Yeah, well – _I'd appreciate you answering._" I told him. I didn't mean to say it that hard, but come on - how hard of a question could it be? If he's OK, I offer him a bowl of breakfast. If he wasn't OK, I get Dean. I just needed to know which it was.

I kinda thought I might get yelled at for being snotty, because I still didn't know Sam so good. But Sam laughed. And then Dean was there, all of a sudden standing next to him.

"What's so funny?" he asked Sam, looking at me like if he didn't get an answer out of Sam, he was hoping to get one out of me. But Sam did answer him.

"Ben was just showing me his _'Dean Winchester'_ imitation." He said, and he might've actually given a tiny smile when he said it.

The answer didn't exactly change the look on Dean's face, but he didn't ask what Sam was talking about. Instead, he asked Sam,

"Are you okay?"

And Sam answered,

"_Dean -." _

Which for as short as it was, was really more of a direct response than I'd gotten out of him on the same question three times. And it was pretty much all the answer Dean needed.

"So, that's a 'no'." Dean said. "All right, back to your pumpkin, Sleeping Beauty. I'll scramble you some Humpty Dumpty."

"_Dean –"_ Sam grumped out and pulled away from Dean's hand on his shoulder that was pushing him back toward the bedrooms. I figured he was going to argue with Dean that he was all right, but his only answer was, "You really need to brush up on your fairytales."

"Yeah, well, you need to eat."

"You can't just take over Lisa's kitchen. And I'm not eating eggs that you've given a name to."

"I'm not taking over Lisa's kitchen, I'm frying an egg. Or would you rather I made you some 'ovum of the gallus gallus domesticus'?"

Okay, whatever _that_ was, I knew that _I _never wanted to eat it. _Ever._

"I asked Sam if he wanted some more lemonade." I told Dean, because I wanted in on this conversation, and that was pretty much all I had to offer.

Dean answered, "He does, thanks," and pushed Sam towards the kitchen table, "Sit before you fall," and Sam went where Dean was pushing him without arguing and sat down.

And then Mom came into the kitchen. She either slept in her clothes or got dressed fast because she was wearing what she'd been wearing the night before. Sam popped up from the chair like he was on springs.

"I'm gonna go back – I'm just gonna – I should –"

He was muttering that to Dean, but I know Mom had to hear him, but she talked like she hadn't heard him at all.

"Sam – you look better than you did last night."

She meant it, she was glad he looked better, she even smiled when she said it.

Sam looked like he just accidentally killed puppies. A _lot_ of puppies. _Cute_ ones.

"Yeah – uh – yeah. I – uh – sleeping last night really helped. Thanks for letting us – uh – stay." He didn't look at Mom while he was talking to her. He didn't look at Dean either really. "I'm gonna – I'm just gonna –"

"You're just gonna sit down and drink some more lemonade." Dean said back to him. He pushed Sam down into the chair again. "Then I'm going to arm wrestle Lisa for the frying pan and make everybody some breakfast. So _sit._"

That last part, those last two words, sounded actually grumpy. And Dean's face, when I looked at him, he actually kinda looked a little grumpy. But – he also looked really really tired, now that I looked close at him. Sam looked worse than Dean, sure, but not by much. I looked at Mom and she was looking at Dean – and she saw it too.

"I only arm wrestle when there's a chance I might _not_ win." She said. It sounded like a dig, but she was smiling, so it was only a way to get Dean to sit and rest because she added, "So why don't you sit down and let _me_ make breakfast?"

Dean I guess figured it for what it was. He smiled too, and said, "_Thanks, Leese,"_ like he needed to whisper it, and sat down in the chair closest to Sam. I poured Sam some more lemonade and set it down near him. I set it next to Sam, but Dean was the one who said 'thanks' first and then Sam looked up and said, 'thanks' too, and kind of smiled, only it looked and sounded like the kind of smile and thanks I feel like giving when Grandma gets me underwear for Christmas. Then he looked down again.

Mom told me to get plates and silverware and she got started making scrambled eggs for breakfast. Sam kept staring down at his hands like it was sunny and he had a bad headache. Dean put his hand on the back of Sam's chair, on the far side of Sam's chair so that he pretty much had his whole arm across Sam's whole back, and even though Sam wasn't saying anything out loud, he must've been saying _something, _because Dean was answering him.

"You need to eat _something._" He was still talking like he needed to whisper. "Even if it's just a little bit. We'll just see how much you can handle, all right? Just try a little and then you can get some more sleep."

And Sam nodded and didn't look up, and Dean and Mom smiled at each other and both of them did a kind of '_kids, hunh?_' eye roll.

Nobody said anything to me but I felt like I was one too many people in the kitchen, like maybe Sam didn't want any bigger audience than he needed. So I got enough plates and knives and forks for the three of them and headed out of the kitchen.

"Hey," Dean said and reached out as I passed him and put his hand around my arm. He smiled at me. "_Thanks_."

I knew he meant for more than just the plates and maybe even more than just the lemonade. And it felt totally non-weird to tell him, "_I'll be in the front room if you need me for anything,_" and Dean nodded like I was really and totally a real part of all of this.

That felt good. That felt _right._ I was glad _again_ that Sam and Dean were staying at our house.

To be continued.


End file.
